Falling, Blindly
by AmericanGrafitti
Summary: Draco is a rich, snobbish young man who is thrown into working with those in need. Ginny is thwarted by Draco, as he is brought to her only place of joy. Many fun adventures ensue, betwteen them, and they can't seem to figure out why. AlternateUniverseFic


"Draco, darling, I've just had the most wonderful idea!" A sweet, motherly voice called. "Draco…Draco, get off of that damned phone, your mother is speaking to you." Her voice was commanding this time.

A young man sitting on a large terrace, in a lawn chair, looked over to the woman addressing him. He rolled his eyes and spoke once more to whoever was on the other end of his phone, and hung up.

"What is it, mother?" His voice was deep and drawling.

"Don't talk to me like that, young man. And stop reading that thing- I don't know why your father allows you to look at such trash." He had picked up a dirty magazine, just as his mother had started to speak. Now, however, it was lying ten feet away on the perfectly pruned lawn.

"Now, do you remember that internship in the Prime Minister's office?" She continued without letting him answer. "Well, before anyone can apply for it, they must have some semblance of community service on their resume. So, what I have done is…" She stretched the answer, hoping his anticipation would get the better of him. After a few moments, however, she continued. "I've gotten you a part-time helpers-job at the Abbey Center, in London. You know, the center for the physically disabled?"

Draco looked at his mother with wide eyes. "Mother, what did you do that for! I don't want to work with the physically disabled! Why couldn't you have gotten father to donate a few thousand quid to some charity?"

Draco was in shock. He would actually have to help people, something he had never done before. The thought made him ill. Working…You paid Year Seven's to do that for you. Upper Six's never did their own work, especially if they attended a prestigious prep school, as Draco did.

"Darling, once you graduate you are going to need this internship at the Minister's office if you plan to get anywhere in politics." She frowned at her only son. "How do you expect to make it as far as your father without working?" His mother rubbed his back, smiling at him.

"Grandfather _paid_ his way in; he didn't work for it. Father's never worked for anything." Draco ran his hand through his hair. "What's the point, anyway? I've already got my hereditary seat in the House of Lords." Draco scoffed.

"Well," his mother sat next to him, her hand on his knee, "Your father seems to think it will look good to the other lords that you are closely tied to the Prime Minister."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but his mother raised her hand, "I don't want to hear anything about it. You're starting Saturday." She got up, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and walked back into the lavish mansion.

Draco turned and gave an incredulous look to his mother's retreating back. Saturday? That was in two days, and he had plans to go out with Daphne on Saturday. His mother was mental if she thought he was going to consort with common people. It was total bollocks, and he wasn't going through with it!

He hated the thought of working amongst Commoner's. He'd simply find a way out of it. The future _Lord_ Malfoy refused to act so homely.

Draco picked up his mobile, walked into the house, and ran to find his father. After fifteen minutes of searching, he found his father in his study.

Father," Draco said, sharply. "Did you know that mother signed me up to work at some homeless shelter?" He gave his father an angry look, which was returned to him. His father did not seem in the mood to be bothered, but Draco saw this as a crisis, which needed to be resolved.

"A center for the physically disabled and, yes, I knew." He had looked back to his paperwork by this point, obviously not feeling any sympathy for his son. "When your mother suggested it, I thought it would increase you opportunity into getting the internship with the Prime Minister."

Draco, by this point, was scandalized. He couldn't believe his father wouldn't just take the easy way out. They had enough money to spare, but there wasn't much of Draco to go around. So, why was it he who was being fed to the wolves?

"I won't do it. Mother said I start on Saturday- I have a date Saturday." Draco was whining, now. He wanted his way, and wouldn't stop until he got it.

His father got out of his chair and walked over to his son. "Draco, imagine a life without luxuries. Imagine…" His father waved his hand in the air for dramatic effect, "I cancel your credit cards, cut off your pocket money, and delete you from my will. Now…Where do you see yourself in, say, ten years?" His father was smiling at this statement.

Draco's eyes grew as big as saucers, and he seemed flabbergasted. "You wouldn't do that. Who would take over the Malfoy Lordship?" Draco was growing lucid.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll find someone to fill your £400, designer shoes." His father patted him on the back. He knew, after what he had just said, that his son would cave in.

Draco jerked his body away from his father and frowned. "Damnit, alright. I'll do it. I can't believe_ you're_ actually asking me to mingle with _Commoner's_." Draco stressed the words to make his point come across clearly. "Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy this sick, twisted form of torture." His father smirked and returned to his desk.

"Lucius?" Draco's mother walked into the study, just as Draco was leaving. "Oh, so I see you've come to try and convince your father to let you off the hook." She smirked, and then turned to her husband. "Lucius, darling, I need to speak with you for a moment."

"Very well, Narcissa. Draco, be on your way." Lucius made a "shooing" movement with his hand, as to dismiss his son, and Draco walked out of the room.

Draco walked to his room, fell on his bed, and started punching his pillows. "Damn, why do parents have to be so difficult?"

* * *

Author's note: Finally, I have this chapter done. I've been working it out in my head for a while and I think it's finally come across the way I planned it to. Also, I cannot take full credit for the concept of this story. If anyone sees a story similar to this, please realize that I am not a plagiarist, I just happened to have the same ideas as another person.

I understand that some people might not be British, so I'm giving you a language guide.

British-to-American Guide:

B. terrace; A. large porch

B. Prime Minister; A. their equivalent to the President

B. quid- British slang for the pound (British currency)

B. Year Seven/Upper Sixth- when the British get into what we would call middle school, or jr. high, they begin with Year Seven (aged 11-12) and go up to Year 11 (aged 15-16), and then they have what is called Lower Sixth (aged 16-17) and Upper Sixth (aged 17-18), which is basically the same as 11th and 12th grade, to us

B. House of Lords- in Britain, there are two house of Parliament: the House of Lords and the House of Commons. The House of Lords is made up of hereditary seats passed down to each generation. The House of Commons, however, is made up of elected representatives

B. mental; A. crazy, out of it

B. bollocks- technically it means testicles, but is used to suggest something is nonsense or ridiculous

B. commoner- someone not born to privilege; someone of low social status

B. lord- someone with a hereditary seat in the House of Lords; someone of high social status

B. £- the sign for the British pound (such as the "$" is the sign for the American dollar)


End file.
